Stunt's Logs - Part Three
by Italian writer
Summary: Another time adventure for detective Stunt. Continuation of "Stunt's Logs - Part Two".
1. Chapter 1

Most rational people do not believe in ghost. Why should they? Ghost don't exist, right?

No. Damn wrong.

Let me start from the beginning. I had been assigned to a murder case where the victim had been killed inside his own shop. The place was equipped with a state-of-the-art CCTV system, so the homicide had actually been recorded on hard disk. The killer hadn't taken the precaution of masking his face, and the camera clearly filmed him while he was carrying out his horrible crime. A good premise for a quick open-and-shut case, right? Wrong again.

I was watching the tape maybe for the tenth time, and I had already printed at least twenty pictures of the murderer in different postures, then fed the killer's close-ups to the facial recognition system, but the result was always the same: the guy on the picture was indeed in the federal crime list, under the serial killers category. Too bad he was already dead, and had been for the last five years.

He had no twin brother, no siblings at all, and he didn't have any relatives we knew of. He was caught six years ago, right after his last murder, but he was killed in prison after only one year of detention.

My captain assigned the case to me, commenting cheerfully: "Constance, you're the only one who can solve this case. You know what they call you, don't you?"

I nodded, unhappily. My fellow officers had started calling me "the mystery detective", after I took on solving the weirdest cases. Little they knew that my unofficial partners, meaning my elemental friends, were actually helping me solve those cases, which were all related to time one way or the other.

But my friends are time agents, not ghost busters, so I really didn't think they could help me in this particular circumstance. That turned out to be my third wrong assumption of the day.

At 10:00 pm I decided that my eyes and my brain needed some much deserved rest, and I headed for the underground garage of the police station. Now, we all know that garages, as a rule, are not very brightly lit, and I can assure you that walking such a scarcely illuminated place at night, right after having repeatedly watched a ghost brutally kill an innocent man, could shatter the confidence of the most down-to-earth skeptic. So I'm sure that you won't blame me for my reaction when I saw a shade come off an especially dark corner; I stopped abruptly and, in the most commonplace horror movie line, I asked aloud: "Who's there?"

I half expected some ugly-looking lunatic brandishing a blood-stained hatchet, but when the figure entered the cone of weak light cast by the wall sconce, the first things that made me relax immediately were the blond, smooth hair and the barely disguised smug grin.

Swallowing a curse and trying to restore a normal heart beat, I said: "Jesus, Steel, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

He said, mockingly: "Jumpy, are we? I can almost hear your heart beating out of your chest from here."

"And I can almost hear the shot that was about to go off my gun." I retorted curtly, showing him my armed hand.

He half raised his hands in mock surrender, his grey eyes shining impishly. He said: "You won't need that in your next assignment."

Taken aback, I asked: "You mean this case is operators' material? You deal with ghosts, too?"

A female voice from behind me caused my heartbeat to quicken again. Will I ever learn?

"We do, as long as they are afterimages created by time."

I turned round abruptly, facing the ever composed Sapphire, and asked, out of breath: "Why do you always appear in different places? That doesn't help, you know?"

She just beamed her serene smile at me and didn't bother to answer.

Steel said: "Can we go to your place and talk? I think this garage is somehow disturbing your peace of mind."

I retorted: "It's downright creepy, that's what it is. All right, I'll give you a lift to my apartment."

For once, I saw a brief flash of dread in his usually impassive eyes, and I suddenly remembered that Steel hated cars in general, and my driving in particular.

Vengefully, I asked: "Jumpy, are we?"

He just glared at me, and Sapphire said, failing to hide an amused grin: "I think we'd better meet you there."

* * *

Twenty minutes later we were all sitting in my cramped living room, where I felt much more at ease.

One thing that Sapphire said earlier was nagging at me, so I asked her: "You mentioned something about an afterimage."

She said: "That's right, yes. You would call it a ghost."

"Then tell me something: how can this afterimage of yours brandish a knife and viciously inflict thirty stab wounds on a poor fellow's torso?"

She briefly closed her eyes, probably stricken by the violence of the image. But she immediately regained her usual placid expression.

"The difference between an afterimage and a ghost is that the former is a materialization of somebody who lived in the past, whereas the latter… doesn't exist."

"Ghosts don't exist?"

It was Steel who answered me with another question: "Are you disappointed?"

"No, it's just that… well, you're sort of debunking an old myth. Now I won't be able to enjoy all those ghost stories in front of a campfire anymore."

"Believe me, this assignment will more than compensate that loss."

"Tell me more about it. What do you know of this afterimage?"

"Time is using that killer's thirst for revenge as a source of energy to materialize him in the real world. The man he killed was the one who allowed the police to apprehend him."

I was stunned. "Why wasn't that information included in his file?"

"Because the police didn't know about it. You see, five years ago, the man that was killed last night saw the killer enter his last victim's house while he was driving in front of it, heading home. He did call the police, but he used a public phone and did not disclose his personal data."

I nodded; the report did mention an anonymous call to 911.

"So that proves that it was really him: only the killer knew that detail." I said.

"Precisely."

Now I was thinking aloud. "But if this killer wants revenge, he's going to murder all the people involved with his case."

Steel said: "That's highly possible, yes."

I darted from my armchair, reaching for my phone. "Then I'm sure that the next thing he will do is go after the man who killed him in prison, and probably also the judge who sentenced him. I'd better make a couple of very urgent phone calls and warn these people."

Less than five minutes later I had already discovered that the first potential victim I mentioned was already dead, killed a few hours earlier by thirty stabs to his torso, presumably by one of his fellow conmen. Only I knew that the culprit was my dead killer. Not only he used the same weapon, but he also inflicted the same number of wounds. The connection was easy enough to make: it was the same number of years of prison he was sentenced to.

Now it was the judge's turn. I had to pull a few strings, but I finally got his cell phone number. When I called that number, though, a relative answered me, explaining that the judge had just died of a heart attack. When I asked him if the judge had a heart condition, he told me that he was healthy as a horse, and that, according to the doctor, it looked like something literally scared him to death.

When I put the telephone down, I probably was a shade paler than usual, because my friends asked me what happened. I told them about the killer's last two victims.

I remarked: "Probably the judge went into cardiac arrest when he saw a dead man threatening his life. He was healthy, but he also was 75 years old. The killer didn't even need to stab him."

Steel asked: "We must stop this chain of murders. Who else could be in danger?"

I counted on the tips of my fingers. "The police officers that arrested him, the prosecuting attorney and, last but not least, the man he was planning to kill when he was arrested. He might want to settle that score, too."

"Find their phone numbers and call them up to warn them. In the meantime, we will pay them a visit, one by one. If we're lucky, we will bump into the killer."

Steel and I decidedly didn't share the same concept of luck.

* * *

This time my friends didn't have a choice, and they were forced to get in the car with me. I found out that when they didn't know where their destination was, they couldn't teleport there, unless they were given the exact coordinates by someone like their Authority.

Steel's distaste for my driving was aggravated by the fact that I was calling up the potential victims to warn them and to inquire on their whereabouts.

The situation was too serious to joke about it; I actually felt a bit sorry for him, and I felt the need to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Steel, but I need to go as fast as I can."

Grabbing the armrest with a vice-like grip that probably left dents in the material, he said: "No need to apologize, detective. As much as I dislike your driving, I realize the urgency. Do carry on."

Despite his brave words, he was unable to hide the slightly green hue on his face, and I fleetingly wondered if elements could actually throw up. As far as I knew, they take human form to work among humans, so they are supposedly equipped with all the necessary organs, but they don't eat either, so it was really hard to tell. I made a mental note to ask Sapphire in a less pressing circumstance.

When we came to a screeching halt in front of a rather desolate warehouse, Sapphire asked: "What are we doing here?"

I explained: "This is where the second police officer that arrested the killer is supposed to work. He retired from the police two years ago and became a security guard. He should be on duty right now. Let's go."

I grabbed my gun and got out of the car. I had already taken the precaution of wearing my bullet-proof vest. Maybe it wasn't effective against ghosts, but as sure as hell it was against knives.

I tried ringing the bell a few times, but when nobody answered I decided to break in. I was about to pick the door lock, when Steel said: "Allow me."

I moved aside and watched while he palmed the door over the lock and slowly turned his hand counter-clockwise. I heard a click, and the door inched open.

I said, impressed: "Wow. Very handy. Pun intended."

Without answering, he preceded us inside, turning on the lights. The first rooms were offices. We found the guards' control room, but the former police officer was nowhere to be seen. I had a very bad feeling about that, so I started searching the premises in search of what I now was pretty sure was another man knifed to death. We decided to split up to carry out a more efficient search, but I must confess that I regretted that decision almost instantly. The place was spooky, poorly lit and consisting of countless lines of crates, the perfect hiding place for anyone who wanted to successfully ambush an unsuspecting victim-to-be. True, I was everything but unsuspecting, but I could still become a victim at any moment.

What contributed to soothe my nervousness were the soft voices of Sapphire and Steel exchanging mental communications.

For some reason, I can hear them in my mind, as I found out the very first day I met them.

Now they were checking on each other's position, and that also helped me take my bearings in that maze.

But suddenly I realized could not hear Steel's voice anymore. I did hear Sapphire calling him, though, her voice growing more and more concerned by the minute.

If she wasn't able to reach him, I certainly didn't have any chance at succeeding, so I didn't even try, and resolved to rely on my police instincts instead.

After a few minutes, those same instincts made all the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up. I slowly turned, ready to fire my gun, but I relaxed immediately: Steel was standing there.

I said, relieved: "Steel. We couldn't hear you anymore, and we were worried. Did you find anything?"

Nodding, he got closer, but he didn't say a word. I was somewhat taken aback, but not alarmed, so I didn't move when he raised his hand as if to touch me.

But suddenly Sapphire's voice made Steel jerk his hand away: "Stay away from him, detective."

I was dumbfounded. "What's the matter, Sapphire? It's only Steel."

She said, her voice deadly serious: "No, it's not."

I didn't have time to ask for an explanation, because at that moment all hell broke loose. Steel growled ferally and flung himself at his partner, hitting her face hard with the back of his hand. Sapphire was knocked unconscious by that vicious blow.

Despite the astonishment, I reacted immediately and threw myself at Steel, trying to protect the poor Sapphire from any further damage.

I knew that Steel had an outstanding strength and that I had no chances of subduing him without using my gun, but I really didn't feel like shooting my friend. That soon turned out to be a _big _mistake.

We struggled. Or rather, _I _struggled, employing all the martial art moves I knew, while Steel just resisted my blows as if I were a little kid playing with her dad. But soon he grew tired of my pathetic attempts, and he aimed a powerful blow at my head. I saw it coming and moved my head out of the way, but his fist impacted against my right collarbone, and I heard a loud crack. By experience I knew that that kind of fracture is quite incapacitating, so I really didn't stand a chance when he grabbed me by my shoulders - painfully aggravating my freshly broken collarbone - and viciously propelled me against the wall with the force of a cyclone.

My bullet-proof vest somewhat dampened the blow, but the impact was still hard enough to crack a few ribs. The pain was searing, and my eyes filled with bright spots of light.

I was still conscious, though, and I saw Steel approaching me with a cold, murderous look in the thunderous grey eyes. But I also saw something else; a uniformed man coming out from behind one of the crates, aiming his gun at Steel and firing repeatedly.

I yelled: "NOOOO!", but my scream was drowned out by the deafening detonations. The man fired the whole charger at Steel, but I lost consciousness well before the last bullet was shot, while my eyes recorded the image of Steel collapsing, deadly red flowers blossoming on his chest.


	2. Chapter Two

When I regained consciousness, the first message that my nerve cells sent to my brain was: pain.

I hurt everywhere. Even breathing was painful. _Especially _breathing. It didn't take me long to remember what happened. Steel's blows had broken my clavicle and possibly a few ribs. But, dear God, Steel was dead. The security guard - who evidently hadn't been killed after all - shot at least six bullets at his torso.

So the voice that I was now hearing, which sounded like coming from a very great distance, could not be Steel's.

And yet, the voice that was calling my name with a distinct worried note sounded so much like his own. Now it also sounded clearer and nearer, so I was probably almost fully conscious. Well, only one way to find out who that voice belonged to; I forced my eyes open, and looked at the face that was hovering over me.

Relief flooded first my brain and then my heart, for that was, without any doubts, Steel's handsome face.

I croaked his name, disbelievingly, and I was rewarded by his beautiful half-smile. Behind him I could see Sapphire and the security guard. I was lying on a bunk in what probably was the guards' relax area.

But when I tried to raise my head, all my nerve endings sent a twinge of pain so intense, I moaned and had to close my eyes, fighting unconsciousness again.

What was Steel saying, now? I had problems hearing him, too focused on controlling the pain. I tried to concentrate on his voice.

"I'm so sorry, detective. Believe me, it wasn't me; it was the afterimage. He ambushed me in a deserted alley of the warehouse, and when I realized he was behind me, it was too late. When his body connected with mine, I immediately lost consciousness, and I didn't regain it until Sapphire found me and somehow revived me. You see, the killer took my appearance to be able to catch you and Sapphire off guard and get the better of you. But Mr. Withtaker, here, saved the day by shooting him and scaring the afterimage away."

I was so relieved, I couldn't believe my own ears. I asked him, in a weak voice: "Are you... all right? You're not... hurt?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm not hurt. Unlike you. You have several broken bones, and possibly a concussion, and I can see that breathing is painful."

I nodded, biting my lower lip. The security guard spoke for the first time: "We should take her to the hospital. Those broken ribs could pierce a lung."

I was frustrated; I knew that those bones would take weeks, if not months, to mend, and I couldn't afford to waste all that time.

As if reading my thoughts, Steel said: "I can help you heal faster. Do you remember when I helped you recover from your sickness after you met your younger self?"*

I did remember, so I nodded, looking at him questioningly.

He explained: "One of our elemental abilities allows us to heal faster. We usually cannot pass on that ability to human beings, but once again you prove to be a very unusual specimen. You seem receptive to my touch, so I think I could help you mend those bones in a matter of a couple of hours."

I was astonished, but my answer was steadfast: "Let's do it."

Steel briefly looked at his partner, meaningfully pointing his chin at the security guard, and Sapphire immediately escorted the man out. Soon the reason became clear.

Steel explained: "I need to directly touch your body to reach the broken bones, so now I will remove your clothes."

I panicked at his proposal, not out of prudery, but because I knew that taking my clothes off would be exceedingly painful. Any minor move sent pangs of pain to my collarbone. Fortunately somebody removed my bullet-proof vest while I was unconscious, sparing me a lot of pain to take it off, but I was still wearing a sweater and a polo shirt.

Once again he read in my eyes what I was thinking, and said: "Don't worry, I will do my best not to hurt you. Do you trust me?"

Unhesitatingly, I said: "You know I do."

"Good." I thought he would pull another one of his elemental tricks, but he just produced a very earthly pair of scissors and started cutting my clothes.

_'There goes my favorite sweater',_ I thought, saying goodbye to that beloved garment.

Slowly, with infinite caution, he cut my clothes all the way down to the cuffs, and ever so gently removed them.

I started shivering, out of cold and shock, and possibly because I was laying in front of Steel with nothing but my bra covering my torso. That was the least romantic situation I could think of, though, so it probably really was just cold and shock affecting me.

But as soon as he put his hands on my body - one on my broken clavicle and one over my cracked ribs - I felt a pleasant warmth spread out to my whole torso.

It was initially very soothing, but it gradually became more painful. I could feel the fragments of the broken bones slowly move toward each other, creaking, and eventually touch. The pain was even worse than before. I yelled, begging Steel to stop.

But he didn't stop, and said, in an apologetic tone: "Sorry, detective, I can't stop now. I know it hurts, but soon you will feel better. Now the fragments are getting aligned, but as soon as they start healing you won't feel so much pain."

I trusted him once again and, gritting my teeth, I held on. I tried to concentrate on the feeling of his warm hands on my skin, wishing the circumstances were totally different.

After a while the pain gradually subsided, leaving my newly mended bones tingling. It actually took less than two hours, but it still felt like a very long time. When Steel removed his hands, we were both drenched in sweat and exhausted.

He covered me with a blanked and said, in a very tired voice: "Now get some sleep. We both need to rest. I will stay here with you until you wake up."

Thankfully, I closed my eyes and immediately went dead to the world.

* * *

*Author's note: Steel is referring to my story "Stunt's Logs – Part Two".


	3. Chapter 3

When I woke up, I could see that Steel had been true to his words; he was sitting on a chair beside my bed, watching me.

I asked him: "How long did I sleep?"

"Two hours. How do you feel?"

I tentatively moved my torso, and I was happy to notice that nothing hurt.

"I feel good. Thank you for your help. Did you stay here watching me all the time?"

He made his half-smile once again, and once again I noticed how much it suited him.

"You're easy to look at."

I was not sidetracked by his compliment, although it did strike a chord.

"That afterimage really worries you, doesn't it?"

He turned serious again. "Yes. I didn't expect it to have such a great power. It's a very dangerous entity, and it hurt both you and Sapphire, by my own hands, no less. I cannot allow that to happen again."

"How do you plan to defeat it?"

"I'm not sure yet. I need to know its weaknesses."

I couldn't help asking him: "What if it doesn't have any?"

"We all do; humans, elementals or entities. Eventually I will find them. We need to go now. Can you stand?" He asked, handing me a clean man's shirt, probably part of the security guard's change of clothes.

I jumped out of bed feeling brand new, and quickly put it on. "Of course. Let's go."

We reached Sapphire and the guard outside the room. They had talked, and Sapphire had already explained the situation to the man. He had a very hard time accepting it, but he could not deny what had just happened. I could sympathize with him: meeting a couple of time agents for the first time was always pretty mind boggling.

He informed us that his colleague was on vacation in Europe, but he didn't know where, so we couldn't really help him. We decided to search for the prosecutor instead, trying to save one more life. The security guard had to join us in our quest, of course, because if we left him alone he would become the afterimage's target again.

So we all boarded my car and headed toward the lawyer's house. He wasn't answering his phone, but we couldn't rule out the possibility that he was simply out for dinner. His cell phone was off, though, and that wasn't very encouraging.

Once again I disregarded all speed limits, and once again I aggravated Steel's car sickness, but I really didn't have any choice.

When we reached his house, we could see that it was dark inside, except for a few lights in the entryway. The not too discreet LED of an alarm system was blinking threateningly outside the main door.

I said: "We should get inside to see if he's... you know... but I don't want the alarm system to go off and wake the whole neighborhood. There are too many things we couldn't explain."

Sapphire approached the alarm system's panel and said, self-confidently: "Leave it to me."

She palmed the panel door and concentrated. Her eyes started glowing an alien shade of blue, and a deep throbbing sound filled the air around her. After a few seconds, the alarm system's light went off, and the door opened with a soft click.

I said, impressed: "Well, I must say I'm glad you're with the good guys. You would make an excellent burglar!"

She joked, smiling: "Who knows? I might make a hobby out of it!"

Shivering at the thought, I said: "I most certainly hope not!"

Then we all turned serious again and entered the house as silently as possible. We were forced to turn the lights on, hoping that the neighbours would not call the police. I was entitled to be there - well, almost, since I had no official authorization - but I couldn't possibly justify the presence of three private citizens in a potential crime scene. The fact that two of them were citizens of another planet entirely didn't help, either.

We searched the whole house, ready for the worst case scenario, but luckily we didn't find any horribly gashed corpse.

We decided to make ourselves comfortable in the lawyer's large living room and wait for him to come home, hoping that he would still be in a position to come home.

Steel said: "We will wait until dawn. If he's not back by then, we will suppose he's been killed, too."

I commented: "They should call me if they find another person stabbed to death. They know I'm in charge of this case."

We barely had the time to sit down, when we heard the sound of the door opening and someone walking in. Then a voice, asking: "Who's there?"

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and decided that, if the lawyer were to survive the killer, he wouldn't survive my lecture. If you see that your alarm system has been switched off by someone else and find your door unlocked and your lights on inside, you don't just get in and ask who's there. You run as fast as you can and call the police. This guy was asking for troubles. Little I knew he was about to find plenty. We all were.

The first thing I did when the man got in the living room and saw it populated with several unknown people, was to show my police badge and identify myself.

"Mr. Schwinn, my name is Constance Stunt, and I'm from the Marina del Rey police department. These people here are collaborating to a case you are probably involved with."

Even though he was unknowledgeable on basic safety measures, he sure knew his job, for he virtually bit my head off.

"You mean you just broke into my house without a warrant and without my permission? You even switched the alarm off, for God's sake! Do you realize that you have breached at least a dozen laws, detective?"

Not more than five, actually, but who was counting? I tried to soothe him.

"I realize that, sir, but this is an emergency situation. You see, it seems that..."

He didn't let me finish my explation and raised his voice. "This is completely unacceptable and it will cost you your rank! I will personally call your capitain and ask him to demote you. I'm also going to call the mayor and..."

He reached for the phone, but before he could pick up the receiver Steel was next to him in two long strides and grabbed his wrist. Judging by the grimace of pain on the man's face, I could tell that my friend wasn't trying to be particularly considerate.

Steel hissed: "You'd better calm down and let the detective explain the situation, or you will find that breaching your stupid rules is going to be the least of your problems."

Knowing both Steel's strength and intimidating stance, I wasn't envying the lawyer's current position.

The man just nodded, his face drained of all color and, docilely following Steel's index finger, he sat down on an armchair, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

Boy, I wished I could use Steel's help in my daily interactions with people; it would make my job so much easier.

I finally had my chance to explain the situation in a civilized manner.

"Now, Mr. Schwinn, as I was saying, we are here because it seems that a serial killer you contributed to convict a few years ago is killing all the people involved with his incarceration. He has already brutally killed three people. We managed to save this man here" - and I pointed at the security guard - "who can endorse what I'm saying. He was one of the policemen who arrested him. We weren't able to get in touch with you, so we had no choice but visit you here. As a matter of fact, we thought you were already dead and were looking for your corpse." A little evocative image never hurts with arrogant people.

The lawyer briefly shot an apprehensive look at Steel, as if asking for permission to talk. The time agent made the slightest nod, so he felt entitled to ask: "Who are you talking about, specifically? I sent several serial killers to prison."

Great. He just asked the only question I was hoping he wouldn't ask. Now my story was going to lose all credibility.

I had no choice but to answer. "Andrew Boyle."

Momentarily forgetting about Steel's threatening presence, the man shot to his feet and raised his voice again. "What? That man is dead! Listen, detective, if you think this is funny..."

Steel placed a hand on the man's shoulder and we all heard a few bones creaking. The lawyer immediately shut up and slowly sat down - collapsed, actually - on his armchair again. Some people never learn.

It was the security guard who spoke, this time: "Listen to these people, mate. They are deadly serious. I have seen this guy with my own eyes. Either he's not dead or he's a damn substantial ghost. At any rate, he sure is freaking angry."

Sapphire spoke for the first time, her eyes glowing a bright blue. "He still doesn't believe us. He thinks we are all crazy and is waiting for a chance to escape and call the police."

Well, at least _that _shook him, at last. He asked, flabbergasted: "How do you know what I was thinking?"

I took the chance to get some sense into his thick head.

"These people have very special, uhm, skills. They are your only hope of escaping Boyle's revenge."

His voice bore a distinct desperate note when he said: "But Boyle is dead. He can't be back."

It was Sapphire who answered him, this time: "And nobody can read minds, and yet I just did it. You see, Mr. Schwinn, the killer isn't a ghost; he's a solid afterimage."

"A what?"

"A past image of the man, momentarily living in the present."

The lawyer shook his head. "I'm sorry, madam; the more you explain, the less I understand."

Steel mumbled, disgusted: "Such a typical human behaviour; why do you always need to rationalize things you cannot comprehend?"

The man opened his mouth to answer, but Steel glared at him, and he immediatly shut it. At least he did comprehend what a rhetorical question was.

But a second later explaining the situation to the lawyer wasn't our top priority anymore, for a figure suddenly materialized in the living room. And, sure enough, that figure was brandishing a big, lethal looking knife and had the very angry face of Andrew Boyle.

I enjoyed a very brief moment of satisfaction seeing the layer's face when he recognized his unwelcome guest, but then I had to take care of more pressing matters, such as extracting my gun to shoot at the bastard.

But Sapphire stopped me in my tracks; she put a hand on my arm to make me lower my weapon, and said: "No, detective. Your bullets would only scare him away. We want to put an end to all this. Let Steel try his way first."

So I was forced to stand and watch while Boyle approached the lawyer, paralyzed by fear and disbelief, and raised his knife to take his last victim.

But he couldn't complete his move, for Steel swiftly placed himself between the killer and his target. Boyle growled with rage, and resolutely plunged his knife into the time agent's stomach.

I didn't panic, because I remembered that Steel can harden his core and actually withstand any steel blade. And, sure enough, the knife slid over his skin and just tore the shirt.

Stubbornly, the killer aimed a little higher and tried to stab Steel's heart, but once again he only managed to damage the shirt.

Dumbfounded, Boyle decided for a different approach; he just let go of the knife and grabbed Steel's arms with both his hands, clearly trying to get rid of the time agent with his touch again.

But this time something went wrong; Steel didn't collapse unconscious. He just closed his eyes and concentrated hard.

I could see on Boyle's face that he was surprised by the time agent's move and that he didn't understand what was going on. As soon as he realized that his plan wasn't going to work, he tried to let go of Steel's arms, but he soon found out that he couldn't.

His hands were glued to the operator's arms, and now they were quickly starting to cover with a thick layer of frost.

Soon his whole body was affected by the unbearable temperature drop, until it completely glazed over. He looked like an ice statue.

But I knew that Steel could not maintain that temperature for too long, and I was not willing to run the risk of Boyle just thawing and starting to wreak havoc again, without Steel being able to help anymore, so I followed my instict; I picked up his own knife and thrust it into his back with all my strength.

The effect was amazing: Boyle's frozen figure shattered in a million pieces, which were flung all over the lawyer's living room. My brain recorded the scene almost on slow motion, and I could see all the fragments hitting the other people, who closed their eyes and protected their faces. Then I felt the impact of those same fragments on my skin, but none of them was sharp enough to hurt me. It almost felt like being hit by a handful of gravel.

Suddenly the house became very quiet. We were all standing there, dumbstruck, not really knowing what to do, when Steel slowly started to collapse to the ground, shivering. Sapphire was beside him in a flash, close enough to check on him but careful not to touch him.

I felt entitled to follow his example and dropped to my knees, spent by the adrenaline surge now being processed by my system.

Sapphire was the first to speak. She asked the lawyer, who was still gasping: "I need your warmest blanket and I want you to light your fireplace."

The man was clearly still in shock, but he reacted quickly enough, and promptly did as she asked.

Soon Steel was sitting in front of a cheerfully crackling fire, wrapped in a warm, thick blanket.

His eyes were open, but I knew that he couldn't see anything.

I helped the laywer to fix a hot tea, hoping to help our blood circulate again. Soon we were all sitting in front of the fireplace, thankfully sipping the comforting hot drink.

The security guard was the first to speak, and he asked Sapphire: "Is it all over, now?"

She smiled at him reassuringly. "Yes, it's all over."

The layer asked: "How?"

"Steel dropped the afterimage's temperature to absolute zero, and the detective broke it into so many pieces, time will never be able to put him back together. You are safe, now."

The lawyer shook his head and said, softly: "I wonder if it has really happened. What will I think tomorrow?"

Sapphire's smile broadened. "Your rationality will probably process the whole incident as a dream. And I suggest you believe it. It would be much better for your mental health."

Yes, I was sure that the lawyer was the kind of person who could rationalize away any weird experience. I was more worried for the security guard; he was much more open-minded and, being a former cop, he sure had seen his share of uncanny things, although certainly nothing quite _that _uncanny. He would take much longer to process the experience, which would probably leave a scar in his psyche.

As far as I was concerned, I was wondering how on earth was I supposed to explain to my capitain that the case was solved without producing any tangible evidence. Well, I thought, he will probably just have to believe my word that the killer is not going to make any more victims. Time will prove me right.

Which, if you think about it, is quite ironical.

**THE END**


End file.
